


Crestfallen

by TsarButterfly



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Biology, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:13:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25191475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsarButterfly/pseuds/TsarButterfly
Summary: Crest, a Gallade, lives with his wife Myst, a Gardevoir, in a world he hardly understands. A malicious attack has left him without the back half of his sensory spike, creating difficulties in the couple's communication. An exploration into the minds of these characters, and the biological processes that drive their thoughts and actions.
Relationships: Erureido | Gallade/Sirnight | Gardevoir, Medieval Story Shipping
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue

Prologue

Crest, a Gallade, was shivering in his bed. Not from temperature - he was soaked in sweat - but from anxious anticipation. He knew that dawn was creeping on him, and that he had only minutes to enjoy the comfort of his warm covers. Parallel to him was his wife Myst, a Gardevoir, who was still dreaming. Crest wished to return to his state of sopor with her. Instead, he was apprehending every second he was awake, knowing that each one brought him closer to the time he had to leave his soft sanctuary.

How much time did he have, exactly? Crest glanced to his nightstand, expecting to see a clock that was not there. He didn't dare check the time on his phone. For the past few nights, Crest had been closing the curtains, much to the objection of his wife, who found the townlight soothing. He had hoped this would help promote better sleep, and it had, though rest was currently avoiding him. What was on Crest’s nightstand was a simple glass of water, joined by an identical glass of red liquid, which glowed, though not enough to be a practical source of light. The hue of the dense serum reminded him of that of berry pulp. Though it was closer to the hue of his sensory spike, running through his chest. 

Crest licked his lips. The front of his throat tasted like dust. Parched, he reached for the water, shifting and stretching to reach the glass on the edge. Sitting up, he took a modest gulp before setting it back down adjacent to the glass with the red liquid. After he set the water down, he rubbed his three fingers across the surface, feeling the warps in the wood. Myst had warned him about leaving drinks out. Less dehydrated, the awful taste and dryness that had set in his mouth was subdued, but still remained. He didn’t want to drink all the water at once, lest he had none left for later. 

But Crest remembered that it already was later. He at least felt that way, with his complete lack of fatigue. On nights that he could sleep, his body's timer was perfectly punctual; it knew when to awake, and rarely did so early. It was telling him that it was the start of a new day. Yet it also pulled him, begging to stay where it was warm and familiar. The conflicted knight continued to shake. He reasoned that if his wife was still asleep, then it was not only reasonable but just that he should stay in bed too. But his legs began to shift to the edge, and he found himself pulling blankets and covers off himself.

Unable to see anything, Crest got out of bed, being careful to not disturb his beloved. No longer choked by tight bedsheets, his perspiring skin could finally breathe. He quietly meandered his way through the pitch-black room. The soft, pristine carpet gently kissed his bare feet.Crest had to move with care. The room was mostly open space, but he couldn't pinpoint the exact location of the window. He walked with his arms slightly jutted forward, and sooner than a moment they made contact with a wall. Crest shimmied around the perimeter of the room. Curtains brushed against his fingers. They were silky smooth but also thick enough to block all luminescence. Fumbling them messily in his hands, he pulled them open.

Only dim lamp glow entered the room. Crest squinted briefly, the faint pinpricks enough to sting his red eyes. Morning was still many hours away. He drew the curtains, but not could arrange them properly, which Myst was peculiar about. They would have to be fixed in the morning, before she noticed. Using the same way he found the window, Crest made it back to his bed. He slid into the straight jacket covers and reclined against the backboard. His throat still cried for moisture. He reached for his glass of water, and had more difficulty finding it this time. It was close to falling off the edge. Putting it to his lips, he gulped down the liquid covetously, some of it leaking down onto his chest. He subdued a cough. 

The Gallade slowly slid back under his bedsheets. Every second that passed brought him closer to dawn. He was glad to know there was more time than he originally thought, but with no way to tell exactly how long he had, he continued to feel on edge. Sleeping would be best; avoiding the coming day was futile. He bitterly shut his eyes, trying to think of anything else. The anxious thoughts still powered their way into his conscience. Crest couldn’t say for sure what the next day entailed, but he told himself it would be awful. Though he also knew it wouldn't be awful. His guesses about what exactly would happen were never right, but he was consistently correct about which upcoming days were going to be overall unfavorable. He had to remind himself that inconveniences did not have to ruin his day. Yet even when he was reassured, the unknown still scared him. 

As Crest’s heart thumped and his stomach twisted and shook, Myst was still snug beside him - breathing lightly - unaware of her mate’s restlessness. The knight rolled over and gazed at his mate, or rather in her direction. He couldn't see her in the dark, but he could feel her. His sensory spike physically burned. Crest briefly took his view away from Myst, but the sensation continued. The worries of the following days, weeks, and months seemed less dire now. The infatuated Gallade focused more on his mystical paramour, and her heartbeats began to tick away in his head. They were much slower than his, and he knew this wasn’t just because she was asleep. The last time he felt this intense for her, she was awake, and still her heart beat was noticeably slower. Being asleep, did, however, make Myst unreceptive to the hormones currently rushing through her. 

Now immersed in his mate, the anxiety inside of Crest was slowly being replaced with warm fuzz. The pit in his stomach felt like it was being filled with heated syrup, his sensory spike continuing to burn the most. The rhythm of Myst's heart softly bumped in his head, battering his senses. The shivering ceased. Crest continued to face Myst. The beats persisted, along with the warmth. Eventually they consumed his faculties. Fatigue creeped upon the knight, his covers feeling heavier. The Gallade's sensory spike was fully ablaze, glowing like the red liquid: dun, but noticeable. In his final moments of consciousness, Crest stretched his arm to his back, feeling the other side of his spike. At one point, the back of his spike was symmetrical with the front, pointed. It now ended in a flat, circular stub that had been carefully stitched shut. Now, he was completely overcome. He loved this feeling - this arrant bliss - and he let it swallow him.

THREE MONTHS PRIOR

Crest had heard little of this room. It wasn't commonly a topic of conversation. Chatting about it would be difficult anyway. What exactly was there to mention of it, other than its lack of any noteworthy features? Though not exactly monotone or literally barren, it was far from an extravagant chamber. This made sense to Crest, as even not the frivolities of a grand palace could compare to what was most important. The two stood, almost embracing, looking down at their locked wrists. The Gallade was in his ceremonial wear, fitted with a gossamer cape parted down the center. The forest green regions of his lower arms had been dyed the pure shade of untouched snow, his clothing sporting the same. In addition, his elbow blades were fitted with flushed molds, intricate in their form. 

The Gardevoir was in her modest yet elegant, round dress, also white, with her lime arms being dyed the same as her groom's. Her hair was short with both ends curving downward before slanting back up. It was the only part left green, just like the Gallade's. Leaflike gloves before had flowed nearly halfway across her forearms, but she had removed them for the ceremony. To the right of Crest stood another Gallade, to his left a second Gardevoir. Both bore typical attire appropriate for the setting, with the addition of thin white veils leaving their faces obscured. Crest knew both of them as close friends. 

Myst's hands were all Crest could focus on. So soft, and slightly humid from being covered all day. He raised his eyes briefly, looking at his bride, who was equally entranced; reverence was crucial. As Crest continued to glare lovingly at Myst's palms, the surrounding air seemed to become saturated, as if it was moving farther away. Nearby objects fuzzed and blurred, like they were dissipating. Eventually, the only things Crest could recognize were himself and Myst. Not even those standing next to him looked clear. 

The room retained its distorted image as it rapidly turned an amalgamation of hot colors - light reds, pinks, a touch of orange here and there - while turning white immediately around the couple. Two equally white rays pierced the colorful void, a string attached to each. One string was a scarlet so rich it stood out among the other colors. The other nearly matched the aura around them, leaving it close to invisible. Each ray glided into the snowy sea, the ends disappearing as they entered. Crest felt the two strings tie his individual hands to Myst's. 

The Gallade's sensory spike ignited, his chest and back trembling. He raised his head again, his spouse now level with his view. She was obviously enamored by the experience. Her own spike glowed with a luster that matched his. Crest tightened his grip on Myst subconsciously, her velvety fingers creasing his palms. Crest's eyes were stuck to Myst's. The white aura nearly buried her, and was a good hand's length thick. Her face was dazed, overwhelmed, ecstatic. What little black was in her pupils had been drowned in a red field. Both their spikes now shone, the faint auras contrasting the intensity of the energy inside. 

This was a feeling Crest was familiar with. After all, it was instinct. He had never felt it so strongly, though. To attempt to describe would make it seem infantile, maybe even quixotic. It had to be experienced first-hand. In the end, he was just glad he had Myst to share it with. He couldn't even remember that his friends were on both of their sides with binding strings tying them, and he wasn't sure if they could even see him or his companion right now. Crest moved Myst more towards him, as much as the ties would allow. The view of her from neck-up now consumed almost his entire point of view. Now that they were this close to each other, Crest didn't want to move away even a bit. He could tell Myst felt the same by the gray blush flooding her face.

The heat inside Crest's sensory spike felt like that of a furnace, one embedded in his breast. The ribbons had pulled tighter. Now, Crest could not only feel his own life force, but that of his beloved's. This was not something he was familiar with. Myst's vitality felt similar to his, but decidedly unique as well. Both together created an indescribable feeling of bliss and warmth, enveloping him from inside. It felt like a layer of his skin had been replaced with a smooth, wooly blanket. 

At this point, Crest noticed that the room was soundless, adding to the magnitude of energy he felt. He questioned if there was actually no noise or if his senses were starting to fail - but he could still see and feel fine, so that couldn't be it. Myst hadn't moved much, still gazing at him with those moony eyes. He wanted to embrace her fully, to kiss her, but that wasn't what this was about. Until now, Crest was primarily undertaking his own energy, with Myst's subtly seeping to mix with his own - but now the feel of his partner's life force was beginning to grow stronger - and the strength of his waned. As they blended, Crest began to understand how to describe the sensation of Myst's power: it gave him a comforting sense of love and charity. 

Their own energies had now evenly mixed. In a split second, Crest felt rejuvenated, like he had awoken fresh from a peaceful sleep. Myst's expression implied the same for her. The painterly fog had begun to dissipate, swathes of the room now visible again. The intense emotions subsided, save for the modest exuberance. Myst was still in arms length of Crest. He had been admiring her the whole time, as he always would when they were together. Now though, this attraction had waxed higher. He thought he was viewing her from a heightened state. 

Every positive or appealing feature of Myst was exaggerated to him. He had been getting lost in her eyes just moments earlier, but now her pupils had returned. Her face was a perfect white, and Crest did not dare to touch it, or leave any sort of blemish on it. Similarly, not a strand of her lime green hair was out of place. Her thin figure disappeared beneath the waist into her bulbous dress. The sharp horns on either side of Myst's face gave her an exotic beauty, though every member of their species had these. Her sensory spike… he pushed away those thoughts. This was not the time for them. He also expelled any doubts about the reality of his situation, refusing to view it as a facade. This was the closest he had ever been to paradise, and he wouldn't change a bit.

Crest noticed the tight pull on his wrists was gone. He looked at their hands once more, seeing the strings had vanished. He pulled his arms back from Myst's closer to his face, and shuffled his fingers. They felt the same. He rested them at his sides. It was over now; those few moments were an out-of-world experience. Crest had taken the time for granted, now craving it in its absence. Moving forward, there would be only imitations of such joy. A chase for even a taste of the same experience. Crest exited the room with Myst at his side. His two friends stayed behind. He felt a new determination now, confidence in the coming times. The rest of the day was to be full of celebration. Crest cared for none of it. 

TWO MONTHS LATER

And the dry, rough dirt dusted his body, stinging his wounds. What a sight he must be, face-down and sliced to strips. His wife was the only one who could see him now, though. He wasn't sure if that was ideal. Eye-to-eye with the ground, he could only listen. Another one of Myst's yells rang off. So anguished, so fearful, like she was the one feeling the pain. The time she spent breathing after each one was getting longer. It was stunted and irregular; too close to hyperventilation, or somebody reaching the surface after being submerged in water for a whole minute.

Crest could feel the gray blood flowing down the stub of his sensory spike, pooling at the base before streaming in various directions off of him. Myst did her best to dam the severation. The pressure eased the pain just a bit, but only brought his attention to the less severe cuts that lined his body. He could identify a rather deep gash that ran from the right side of his chest to the left side of his abdomen. Other lines of gray were also present in varying lengths, and the slashes had tattered his green garment. Sand was embedded in his knees from falling so suddenly. He could taste a cut near his mouth, too. Thirst ruled his throat, with a layer of dust drying out the saliva.

From the dehydration came a severe headache, not that the ground was exactly a cushion either. He could have sworn the aching was hellbent to reaching the center of his forehead, causing him to squint and his already bloodshot eyes to water even more. Crest longed to scream into the night with Myst, but found he was having trouble breathing. Was his throat injured as well? He couldn't tell. So he lay as if he were already dead, since getting up would only cause his spike - no, his stub - to bleed worse.

Too much strength was needed for Crest to lift his head from the baked clay, so he didn't bother, opting to continue to swallow dust. With nothing else to occupy him, he strived to recall what had just happened. He fought back, though to say that was to give himself too much credit. It was a group, of which species he knew not. There were too many in this world to count, and he had not had time to familiarize himself with many of them.

While in his thoughts, Crest noticed Myst had taken her hands off his stump. She slid them below his underarms, and assayed to lift him up. Her cries and moans continued, interrupted by grunts on occasion. Placing Crest on his feet, she moved one arm to his chest and held his back with the other, still stopping the blood from pouring out by holding him close. Crest's legs shifted and quickly gave way, and he dropped to the ground again. Determined, Myst brought him up the same way, balancing him. The marred knight could now see the extent of his wounds. None of the scrapes were fatal, though his difficulty in standing was not from being cut, and nothing felt broken. Perhaps his spike was needed for balance. He had never been concerned with the intricacies before.

Each step the Gallade took felt like a mile. The time it took for him to be dragged to the middle of this plot of land was much quicker. Myst hadn't been able to keep up, as they held her back, thankfully not harming her, and by the time she found him he was alone, bleeding out. He tried not to think about how much he had lost as he labored to the sidewalk. He stumbled a few times more on the way, and noted each step as bringing them one step closer to safety, to a chance to live. 

Crest knew when he had reached the edge primarily by how the ground felt: a change from the harsh soil to derelict concrete. Various sections were lit, sporadically on each side, but only in the distance. The headlights of a car, or any vehicle, were likewise absent. Legs sore from the brief but trying walk, the Gallade collapsed. Looking back, he could see Myst's arms were drenched in his blood. He hated to see his wife like this, overwrought and terrified. Yet not a minute had passed before she was urging him up again. 

The two headed left, in the direction they were most likely to happen upon incoming aid. Crest maintained slow steps, not sure which would be his last. Upon reaching an intersection, Crest collapsed again, this time certain he would stay down. Myst rolled him onto his back, maintaining pressure on what was left of his spike. Before what he assumed to be dying, her hands were the last piece of sensation he felt.


	2. Routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one. Next chapter should be longer.

When Crest awoke for the second time, there was no sunshine in his face. The room was visible, but lacked tone, instead possessing only a monochrome quality. The lone armchair in the tiny space was an uninviting mix of tan and gray, with fraying fabric. Wooden stands and dressers had lost their luster, though the paint was mostly intact. Days before, Crest had travailed to move the pieces in, struggling with even the smaller items, not from their size or weight, but what he called inadequacy. Some kind residents nearby helped after noticing his and Myst’s struggles.

The window from earlier was now exposed, curtains drawn open, and folded with precision. Though the sun was not visible, enough light came in for him to see. Myst was elsewhere in the house. How long had she been up? What time was it?

As Crest inhaled his first breath of the day, he could taste the rank aridity plaguing his tongue and throat. Habitually, he grasped for the glass on his nightstand without even looking. He grabbed one of the glasses from up top. This was too light to have anything in it. He set it back down, and began to debate if he should get up and slake his thirst. The acute finish of dried air got the better of him. 

Once again arising from his bed, Crest sat on the side to face the blank wall just two steps away. He grabbed the other glass off the night table and brought it to his eyes, whose color matched the liquids. This inimical drink had been eyeing him all night. He could already sense its overpowering, medicinal flavor. The kind that makes people choke and flick their tongues. He put it out the night before, as he would forget otherwise. A glass every morning. Crest winced and chugged his poison. Overwhelming in mint flavor presented in a thin consistency. Crest tried not to breathe while drinking it. 

With a throat now dry and glazed in medicinal residue, Crest swallowed as much saliva as he could, practically squeezing his dried kitchen rag of a tongue. Just enough liquid exuded for him to feel narrow strings run down his gullet. The desiccated knight took them in as if they were his first gift of water after a lengthy trek through the desert. The kitchen sink was just a room over, but he stayed put. 

Minutes passed before Crest realized he had been staring at drywall. The palm of his hand met his face, as if squishing the skin would scramble his vision and reveal something, and he rubbed his eyes forcefully. But these walls were bare and rough, with no patterns or irregularities to discover, not even a misshapen brush stroke. How was the paint on this shoddy wall so uniform? No shapes to be found. 

Crest mulled over how he had felt just hours before; so anxious it made him shudder, so certain that the day contained harsh grievances to bear. The peace from Myst that swiftly overtook him, he had not had that since his brush with death. But he had felt anxiety like that before. What caused his calming? How could he replicate it? Being around Myst didn't always do that. Lately, being around her hadn't made him feel much at all.

As for how Crest felt now, he could only describe it as average. If today did present hardships, they hopefully wouldn't be due to his attitude. Yet the thought of leaving this bedside made him tense, just a bit. Crest shook it off, stood, and told himself he was not going to feel this way first thing in the morning, in his own home.

His new, unfamiliar home.

Outside the bedroom door, which creaked obnoxiously (the home was new to him) was the modest but respectable living area, the kitchen tucked away in the corner. A dividing half-wall between the rooms acted as a counter top and eating area. Every apartment in this town looked roughly like this. The claustrophobia was only bearable from how tidy it was kept. Crest did his "best" to manage the space, giving care not to let items linger around.

Unseen appliances both inside and out droned panoramically. The persistent buzzes were the only present sounds, leaving a room otherwise so quiet that Crest could hear himself blink. Plastic blinds soaked the room in an embraceable gray, though not pitch-black as the bedroom had been just hours ago. He briefly scanned the room, admiring its apparent spotlessness.

Myst lay on the particularly organized lounge, asleep, quiet breaths emanating from her being. As every Gardevoir (and Gallade) had to, she rested on her side. She lay her head on her left arm while her right arm stretched down her leg. She wore a nightgown, practically identical to her daytime dresses, though made of a softer fabric. Her grassy hair was a mess of flattened plains and stiff tufts that jutted out of place. Crest knew this look well.

Around the room, everything had been unpacked and meticulously placed in appropriate spots. An easily cluttered room now had space to think. Flattened cardboard boxes were budged next to the trash can. She had done the rest of it herself.

Despite his gratitude, Crest felt deficient and undeserving. He hadn't helped in any way this morning, and just a few days earlier, Myst had done the same, insisting that she set everything in order. He remembered her saying that she wanted to do it herself, because it brought her relief and happiness. It did not sit well with the Gallade that he should only receive of his spouse's labors, and not give any in return. He made a mental note that he had to do something to make up for it. He wasn’t even able to move all of their belongings on his own, so why should she unpack them on her own?

Crest explored the room, inspecting the finer details of the claustrophobia. With all of their belongings unpacked and every inch cleansed, he felt relief, though only as a side of the benign guilt he was harboring. He could not spot any blemishes or stains on the plastered counters or the ancient, hardwood floor. The sink, stove, fridge, and all other appliances had been refreshed from the past few days of usage that had left them grimy and unpleasant. Though, the previous tenants hadn't been the most decent, either; definitely more than a few days.

Not that Crest would've complained otherwise, at least not out loud, but every time the house was cleaner than he expected, or even if it just caught him off guard, it brought him a bout of venial delight. Doing it himself did the same, but Myst insisted. Perhaps it was best to just leave it to her.

Crest filled one of the round glasses he retrieved from the cupboard. The lukewarm tap water seemed to him like it was fresh from an arctic spring. When not so desperate, he would notice the earthy taste the water had, the particles it'd leave behind in your mouth. After drinking every bit, his desert of a throat cried, "one more". He downed another and rinsed the cup in the sink.

Crest tipped back to the couch where Myst was still in a deep rest. Her expression: so dull, pacific. Crest recounted all the other forms he had seen it take; aptly mystical, but that was what made it so enthralling. From the first time Crest saw it, he had fallen for its spell, which took him on a quest to know her, to have her.

At first, she iced him with gazes of disinterest. Admittedly, that might have just been how he interpreted it. In fact, he could not recall a time she was intentionally unkind to him. Vexing, at most. Crest was getting tangential again. Right, she was refractory and uninterested at first, with a look that could kill. Like one of those girls in childhood tales, so beyond attainability, yet all one had to do was find what made her reachable. Because there was always something. Though he wasn't sure if he had ever found it for her.

He remembered her face on their first date. Appearing conceited to him, but eventually he realized it was her way of showing interest. Subsequent outings brought out her more obvious smiles - sweet, but with restraint, and still retaining their unique charm. Even the angle of her grin had to have been divinely inspired. Tuned finely to be sly, yet warmly welcoming. She never disclosed her teeth, granting her smirk a subtlety.

But the best of her characteristics, those ruby-red eyes, large and bulbous, acted as a blanket for him; or maybe a steaming lake of thick, entrancing fluid, that he could wade through forever, never able to escape, nor desiring to. He would fantasize over those crimson seas on every outing. Crest was now looking at those same seas, but closed off, denied from him.

Crest's vision fuzzed, with pressure on his temples, before snapping him back to the real world again. He had finally decided to stop looming over his wife and proceed with the morning. Casually shifting his weight on this spot on the floor birthed brief cracks and groans. The morning routine; it hadn't changed from moving to a new place. Some spots in the floorboard even felt hollow, such as that enough weight would cause them to collapse. For now, Crest needed to plot the order of the upcoming tasks in his mind. He wondered if there was an open space under the ground, and what might live there.

How small, and unnoticeable would a species have to be to survive for generations? Crest pondered whether a city, or a civilization could exist. One with no natural light, necessitating the population to evolve to develop night vision, or find a way to produce light artificially. Perhaps they were even blind, and survived by other senses.

The images of fantasy and reality fought for attention, before leaving Crest dazed. He told himself to focus, shunning away more wasteful thoughts. These in particular were harmless, fortunately. But just as harmless they were enticing, and Crest was following them away. Just for a moment. Slowly the world beneath his feet was born, to be visited in the near future.

Once again, Crest gained his composure, along with a jolt of energy to prevent another relapse. He paced his way back to the bedroom, lightly breathing to keep focus. He then entered the bathroom to the right of the bed into the bathroom, greeted by a draft against the bottom of his leg as he closed the door. His hand scampered across the wall, and flipped a switch just next to the entrance. Light accompanied a rumbling from the ceiling. Normally Crest took a second to complain in his head of how the light and the fan were connected to the same switch, and that it was so stupid that he couldn't have one on but not the other, and how it made it hard to hear when Myst was calling him, but he was already distracted with the mirror that presented itself (or himself). The mirror had formerly been streaked with soft water and spots of facial oil, but was now clear as an untouched, idealistic lake.

Crest's fingers slowly found themselves around his face as he examined it intently. Any blemish he came across was picked at or squeezed. He'd heard of the side effects of this, but he knew they didn't know what they were talking about. One of the minuscule bumps, just above his eye, burst in a satisfying release of pressure and grayish-clear liquid.

Content that his face was clean, he turned around and drew back the shower curtain, a teal, brand new one to replace the unsightly, water-worn, clear one from before. He stripped off his pajama pants, and briefly opened the door to throw them on the nearby bed. He carefully stepped in the tub and pulled the curtain back. Surrounded by light marble with mild stains of pink and black, he spun the shower valve counter-clockwise. A brief surge of icy water shook his skin before relieving it with warmth.

Only after the umteenth minute of basking in the hot rainfall did Crest lather dollop of shampoo in his hair and begin to massage his scalp. After thoroughly scrubbing every inch of his head, he let the warm water wash the excess suds off, and watched as it streamed into the drain. Eyes closed, just letting the shampoo sit while the shower drops splashed down his body, eventually rinsing it off. This shampoo had no particular scent. Crest proceeded to smother his chest and as much of his back as he could reach with body wash, though he was quicker with washing it off this time. He then spent twice as much time once again wasting water. If someone were to ask Crest what he was thinking about that whole time, he wouldn't be able to recall. He only broke from this state with a heavy sigh, that left him feeling sparse inside.

Eventually, the water was off, and Crest stepped out of the tub, the fan in the ceiling still buzzing. Everything in the confined space felt moist, including the white, fluffy mat beneath his feet. He pulled a gray towel off of the nearby rack and wrapped it around his head, scrubbing his hair dry, then brushed it around his whole figure. The heaviness remained as he inhaled and exhaled again.

Crest opened the bathroom door, and embraced the cool air on the other side, which hit a damp patch of hair on his neck. Crest turned around and plucked the towel off the rack and scrubbed the spot urgently before placing it back.

A quick trip to the dresser and Crest had on his typical attire. Bhulstow, or trousers, exceptionally round at the upper thighs. They matched his white legs. A tyast, or the green shirt that matched his chest, complete with holes on either side to let his spike through. Crest was basically ready for the day. He grabbed his pajama pants off the bed and sloppily folded them before putting them back in the same dresser. A half-effort was better than leaving it out.

Crest lay fully dressed on the end of the bed, sliding until just the bottoms of his legs hung off the edge, with no covers over him. He raised his arm as if shielding his face from sunlight, but not even the ceiling lamp was on. Instead his arm stayed in the air until he got bored of it. The empty force continued to churn in him. He used this opportunity to close his eyes again, and deeply treasure every second before the day started. After what was probably only thirty seconds, he rolled over to his side and picked up his smart phone from off the floor, yanking the cord out. 08:04. Crest panicked for a moment, remembering that it was an hour's drive to the city. They should be fine, he just needed to wake Myst.

Precious minutes passed as Crest slowly slugged off the edge of the bed, still reluctant to proceed forward. Once flat on his feet, he stretched his arms above his head, maneuvering them in a way that would seem like he knew how to properly stretch, but really he was clueless. Not that these were anything more than morning stretches, the ones everyone did. He aligned his arms perpendicular to his body and continued. So good. He let his elbow blades loose and did other various poses, if one were to call them that.

His mind called for him to flop back down, which he did. The mattress felt so good now, and he enjoyed a few more minutes of pleasure, as his entire back side was consumed by the soft fabric. Crest may have remained there forever had he not suddenly gained a desire for food. Not that he hadn't known before, he just didn't have the drive to make breakfast. But the hunger in him suddenly found new life, stronger than before, and he could no longer ignore it.

He once again went into the other room. Myst was still on the couch, mannerly containing herself on it. Was she still asleep? Crest couldn't see her face from the doorway. She had flipped onto her other side. Crest again traveled around the counter parallel to the couch, opposite side of the room, into the meager kitchen. He swung open a cupboard, then immediately shut it with a gentle lead. He just remembered; no food for him today. He wasn't sure why the hospital needed him on an empty stomach, but he'd have to endure. Disappointment joined his hunger. He could have had the leftover dinner from the night before. A wide assortment of plants from home, mixed with hearty mushrooms, in a sweet, yellow, runny sauce. Meat was not common as a dinner for his kind, due to the way it weakened the senses.

Now, to contemplate what to do next. There was a surprising amount of downtime, and Crest realized he could've just stayed on the bed. Wait, he needed to make sure Myst got up and was able to get ready. He supposed he should wake her now, and peered over the counter into the living room, before his feet moved from tile to carpet. Just a few more seconds of observing her. He hoped he wasn't interrupting a pleasant dream, or doing something that would frighten her. A light whisper left his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to give them clothes rather than just be naked. Makes it easier for me to work with them. All of the italicized words are stuff I made up, as they aren't native English speakers (or any language we know). This is going to be common throughout the story.


	3. Chapter 3

"Myst." 

She didn't move a muscle. How was she so enamoring without even having control? Just being around her was calming. Crest wasn't used to seeing her asleep, as she was usually the one to wake him. 

"Myst."

Not so faint this time, though he still consciously took care to not startle his beloved. The Gardevoir's eyes pulled themselves open, and fell back halfway. Did she do that intentionally? Her animated demeanor left him lovestruck. The way her knees gently emerged from behind her gown, or the way her perfect, slender arms stretched in opposing directions, following her body as she lay down. 

"It's past eight," he faltered. "You - we, should probably get ready. And, good morning." 

Myst echoed the welcome, and sat up, stretching her arms again, causing her sensory spike to prominently jut forward, earning Crest's center of attention. It was a flashy moment of alluring splendor; Crest already knew that image would be burned in his mind for the next week. It'd likely replay a few hundred times, and he'd long to see it happen again. 

Awkwardness suddenly swept up Crest, as he realized he was peering down on Myst. She didn't seem to notice, yet Crest still felt odd. He took a seat next to her on the faded blue couch, and immediately wondered how she could've slept on it. Such an uneven structure, where the fabric had been indented into spaces caused by the sparse framework. Like much of their furniture, this piece was a gift, or more of an empathetic donation. Crest longed for the type of home wear he grew up with. A circular family piece wouldn't fit in this cramped home, sadly. A bansorta. Its shape made lounging easier, and made it more efficient for group meals or games. Though, Crest had to admit that this wasn't the extent of luxury human furniture. He had seen some the more structurally sound pieces available, though he still questioned their general design. 

"I'm feeling anxious still, but a lot better," Crest broke the silence. "I have a lot more of a good feeling about today."

"That's good!" she perked up. "Really, there's nothing to worry over. We're going to make today enjoyable, too."

"You sure you can promise that?" he jeered, attempting to decompress. 

She was so good for him. It wasn't a lie that Crest was feeling more optimistic. Though he had a small tinge of emptiness gnawing at him, it was nothing compared to whatever that was last night. Just like then, Myst helped calm him now. She stood, and gently strode to the bedroom, stretching and letting out a hearty yawn.

"Oh, Crest maspem," she cooed from the door. "I need to stop at that store I was talking about after your appointment."

"What store?" he inquired blankly, without enthusiasm. 

"The one with those little bird figures on the window display. I really wanted to get them last time we were in town."

Crest could not remember such a place. But, if they were on display and that was all she was getting there, then it shouldn't be too bad to let her go. In addition, it was his appointment that would be taking up most of the day. Not that Crest wanted to go - he'd much rather come home right after - so it was really just more waiting.

"Fine," Crest sighed. "Just please promise you won't be browsing for a thousand years."

"I can take as long as I want if you're gonna be asleep the whole time," Myst fluttered, in response to the silent-yet-obvious yawn he had just let out. 

"Yeah, I'm sure you'd love that maspema, then you can explore bizarre alien shops to your heart's content."

Myst was easy to kid with, and she always lovingly returned the favor. Crest now felt more comfortable than just a minute ago, just because she was so easy to be casual around. Now, he could think clearly. The appointment today was for an attempt to reconstruct his spike. He had no clue how they were going to do that, but he was going to go along with it. The fact he even had this opportunity was a godsend.

\----

"Crest, are you able to get any service in here?" Myst called from inside the bedroom. 

Crest, crouching at the bedside, pulled his phone from his waist pocket. He pushed the power button, but the screen didn't turn on. It wasn't off, or broken, his phone was just a piece of garbage. He rapidly pushed it again and again, and the screen briefly flashed before turning off again.

"This thing," Crest muttered to himself.

He held the power button down forcefully, and eventually the screen revealed itself, and stayed that way. In the top right corner, Crest could see he had but one bar of reception. He grimaced. How could a small home with thin walls not have service?

"I think this whole town has an issue," he called back to Myst.

"No," she proclaimed. "It worked just fine outside. I was able to call them."

"Alright, fine, then I'll go do it." 

Crest continued to pull down on the fitted cover that was just barely too small for their bed. Could he make it work? The meshy fabric stretched over the bottom right corner, clinging to the mattress' bare, puffy exterior, but could not cover the entirety down to the bottom. He straightened himself and went around to the other side, adjusting the opposite section of the sheet, giving him enough slack to have it evenly distributed.

Once he was outside, Crest pulled out his cell phone again. He had left the door to his new home wide open, so Myst could see him from the inside. His phone screen turned on without any issues this time. With its newfound connection, it displayed a single text. After Crest read it, he could feel his heart jump for joy, and his spike burned just a little. He smiled like the woman of his dreams had just agreed to marry him. Containing the urge to yell, he called Myst out and showed her the message. She too quickly turned exuberant, grabbing Crest with no restraint, and cheering like a child.

"Yes!" she cried, giggling from relief. "It's gonna be all fine."

As she softened her grip, the energy emanating from her cooled down, and she was left gray-faced and teary-eyed. Crest found her melancholic expression gorgeous, and even though they were both calming down, he could both of their spikes burn hotter. This was a brief reaction, however, as their bodies swiftly returned to normal. Crest pulled his wife back in, closer than before, embracing her in a more somber but equally affectionate manner. He could tell she was trying to soften her breathing, but deep down her heart was beating frantically, a rare occurrence for her. Her breaths were soft but passionate, causing him to melt in the concrete walkway between home and courtyard. 

\----

The sound of water droplets plummeting against the bathtub floor, now faint, pierced Crest's head as he lay silent on the recently vacated couch. All Crest's body desired was some additional rest before the day truly started. Though a new emotion had joined the party: whatever one would call that feeling when you feel like you forgot something but can't remember what. Crest wasn't familiar with the term, and made note that he should probably find it out later.

But not now, he just wanted to enjoy every second he had before he inevitably had to stand back on his feet and take initiative. Sometime soon, Myst would walk out of the bathroom. Then, he'd have just a couple more minutes before she was dressed, and a few more after that since she could eat breakfast today.

This fabric wasn't as comfortable as the bed, though. Could he go lay back down there instead? No, it'd be weird if Myst walked out and saw him stargazing at the ceiling. Crest briefly considered he was doing this. While not the first time he had caught himself in the act, he struggled to recall another time he had drowned in the walls' white paint; it hardly was worth remembering.

Not much time was given to consider before the constant bombardment of water just a room over ceased. The sound of the door opening is what finally woke Crest up. Not much later, Myst emerged from the bedroom, wearing an emdar; typical attire for a Gardevoir. Crest admired the dress’ ability to be both simple and elegant in appearance, only exaggerated by the most beautiful being in existence. Myst's ribbony white dress was paired with a green top, a lighter shade than his own. It too matched the color of her arms, and the hands that were holding the glass he had had out overnight.

"Crest, love, please put something underneath the glass next time," she ordered.

Still on his back, Crest hid the slight embarrassment by shifting his eyes to the ceiling. Myst paced over to the couch and loomed over him. 

"My precious furniture is ruined, and it's all your fault."

She was teasing him, of course. Crest smiled awkwardly in response, hoping to elicit further reaction from her. Myst made a slight gasp, as if faking being surprised at his smirk. She turned the glass upside down and plopped it on his front chest spike. When Crest attempted to take it, she swiftly put her hand back, trapping his hand between hers and the glass. Myst was now the one smiling, much more mischievously than he had. Though his immediate instinct was to break her vice grip, the silky touch provided undeniable comfort. 

"Is this supposed to bother me?" Crest inquired, slightly bothered.

"Well, we can stay like this all day and see what happens." she flirted.

"I can't believe you'd pick today of all days to waste. You're awful." 

"But is it a waste? I can remedy you here at home; That’s what you’d rather have, isn’t it?"

“What do you mean?” he laughed. “You’re not a surgeon.”

“No, but I still saved your life,” she retorted.

Crest groaned lightly. “Which I am forever grateful for, _maspema_."

Myst squeezed his hand tighter, still grinning triumphantly before letting go in a bout of laughter.

"Are you ready to go yet?" Crest jeered.

"Mm, yes," Myst responded after collecting herself. "Can I eat though? I was thinking of avoiding food with you, but--"

"Go ahead," Crest cut her off. "At least one of us should have energy." 

"That's what I was gonna say," she started towards the kitchen, glass still in hand. "In case of an emergency, I mean. Hopefully if I get hurt this time you can find the strength to carry me."

"Whatever you say. I'll go sit in the bedroom, though, so I don't have to watch you eat."

"Are you--?" 

"Yes, I'm sure. You eat, and I don't have to know any of the details of it."

Crest was already at the bedroom door by the time he had finished his point. He slipped inside and immediately plopped back on the bed, bouncing on impact. He instinctively stretched his arms again, and really tried to exert pressure on his shoulders. In the process, he contemplated how he hoped Myst would take a while to eat, as it would allot him more time to lay down. He also thought back to how nice it had felt when she held his hand like that. He had held hands with her plenty, of course, but this was different. A list of words to describe just her hands began to form: soft, but this was too common, and he needed something more unique; silky sat better with him, though it was a pedestrian choice as well. 

This thought process caused Crest to wonder what his wife would think about him spending his time like this. She couldn't be weirded out by him being in love, though Crest was constantly anxious at the idea that she could read his thoughts. She'd probably lovingly laugh at her romantically juvenile husband. He needed to devise a reply in case such a thing ever happened. 

That last thought didn't sit right with Crest. He didn't need to explain everything to Myst, especially not his personal thoughts. And the likelihood of her ever finding out was exactly zero unless he told her. So why did the prospect bother him?

Crest's casual meditation had drawn his attention away enough for Myst to crack the door open and run up and… grab him by the legs? His brain had trouble processing that she had actually done that, but he sat up enough just to catch her start to cackle like she had heard the most relatable quip delivered by a professional standup.

"What—" Crest held back laughter too. "What are you doing?"

"I have no idea," she squealed in relief from her near-fit. 

"I thought it'd be funny to come surprise you, but I didn't actually think of what to do so I just grabbed what was closest before you noticed."

"I take it you're ready to go, then?"

"Yes, I am. Oh my g--" she held back more giggles. "Do you wanna drive today?" 

"I don't know if I should. If you try that while I'm driving you'll kill both of us." 

"Well I always said that human modes of transportation were death traps."

"No, you just have to know how to operate them, and if you're passenger your main job is to not scare the driver."

She was going to go to town with those last three words. He already knew that, she was so clever with using words against him.

"Awww, I didn't mean to scare you," she mocked. "Can I make it feel better?" 

"Stop that!" Crest cried only half-truthfully. "Please, can we get going!"

"Alright. I'll drive then, since I can't be trusted with the role of passenger. I'll bring my hurt _kurem_ to safety."

Kurem. A term for a little boy. Crest was going to avoid taking the bait again and decided to avoid wasting more time, even though that is _not_ what a kurem would do.


	4. Chapter 4

As Myst pulled open the front door to their restrained apartment, a new atmosphere seemed to crawl in and confront Crest. It glared him down firmly, not to intimidate, but just to make itself known. He could immediately sense that the outside air was slightly cooler than that of their home. The air was also more lively-- Crest could now hear the outside world unobstructed. Someone sprinting up the stairs made the metallic staircase clang in protest. Whoever it was didn't stop to come down the corridor he and Myst lived. Instead, the runner continued on up to the third, final floor. As soon as the clanging stopped, Crest heard a car door slam in the parking lot below.

"Someone has a busy morning," Myst remarked about the stair climber. Crest didn't respond. She stood on the mat in the doorway, awaiting his response. "What?" she ribbed. 

"Sorry," Crest sighed. "I-”

“You need to look me in the eyes,” she ordered calmly, then paused. “And smile.” She provided an example.

“Alright, I get it.” Crest’s groaning led to a respectable smirk.

“See? You look so handsome when you do that,” she added, stepping out the doorway. Crest followed.

“Only when I’m smiling?” He had caught her this time.

“I did not say that,” she pouted, grabbing his left hand. “You’re always beautiful, maspem.”

I’m beautiful? he thought to himself. Was that intentional?

Myst kept hold of his hand as they both walked down the corridor of their complex. Since it was technically outside, the floor was an unwelcoming cement slab. The couple passed two other front doors, both closed, on their way to the stairwell. Each step matched the floor, and were divided into two sets, connected by a catwalk overlooking the parking lot halfway through the descent. A crude, rusting metal guardrail on the edge kept the owners of the apartments safe from liability.

Myst briskly stepped down the stairs first. Crest swiftly followed, still holding on to her hand. Myst took no hesitations when they reached the catwalk, instead turning around and continuing down the rock-hard steps. When the two of them reached the ground, they were in an identical looking corridor as the one they had come from. They once again turned and went around the base of the stairwell, exiting the shade of the structure’s geometry and entering the sunlight.

“Do you have the key?” Crest asked this still smiling, though that likely wouldn’t last if he had to walk back upstairs.

Myst’s free hand shot up to reveal the key to their black sedan. Crest couldn’t tell you the brand, and he didn’t really care.

“Mmm, yes I got it,” she replied, mashing the unlock button twice. The car was parked two spots away from the entrance to the complex. Crest let go of Myst’s hand as she made her way over to the parking spot, and looked up in the air. His view of anything more than a hundred feet away was blocked by another complex identical to his own. Its orange and tan coloring popped from continued bathing in sunlight. Its shape was less flattering, as structurally the complex was just a box. To either side of Crest, the parking lot stretched into a mishaped oval, dozens of cars of different makes and colors occupying the overwhelming majority of them. 

Crest made his way right to meet Myst at the car, squeezing between it and another. She was already inside the driver’s seat with the key in the ignition, the engine’s roar subdued by the hood of the car. Once Crest made it to the passenger side’s door, he grabbed the handle and pulled. The handle stopped halfway. Crest heard a click and tried again, opening the door slowly so as to not bang the black van next to him.   
The black leather seat he was sitting on felt more comfortable than usual. After buckling himself in, he reached down to the right and grabbed a lever, reclining the seat. Myst was, obviously, sitting up straight. She shifted the vehicle into reverse and carefully began to back out of their parking spot. 

“You gonna take a nap on the way there?” she asked. Crest could notice a tone in her voice. And of course, she called it a nap. “Is it alright then if I turn on the radio?”

“Yeah,” Crest muttered, eyes closed. Talk radio spilled out of the car’s speakers, though Crest didn’t pay mind to their conversations, especially as the volume got lower. 

The motions the car made signaled to Crest where they were going, even if he couldn’t see. They’d pass a couple other identical looking buildings before leaving through the front Entrance. Despite the entire plot of land posing secure with its intimidating metal gate and fencing, Crest had overheard recently that those had become the standard everywhere, previously only available to upscale housing. Not that this area was unsafe; it was specifically chosen as a means to avoid danger. 

Crest had also driven past enough of the surrounding area enough times to know what it was like. Immediately across the entrance was a flat plot of land, whose future likely consisted of becoming part two of the currently occupied land. It too had a fence, albeit a much less majestic, chainlink one. Most of the surrounding area included in the drive to the freeway matched this emptiness. Crest had memorized some of the less organic landmarks, however. The first left after turning left out of the apartments would put them on a road. Once they had driven past the housing jurisdiction, there was a massive, blank billboard on the side of the road. Crest imagined climbing up and dangling his legs off the edge, enjoying an expansive view of the desert.

The desert Crest lived in was markedly different from the heavily wooded environment he was from. Despite this, Crest had to admit he had come to love the climate, even more than most of the people who had lived in it for much longer than he had. Every form nature took had its own qualities, and the Gallade could not hate any piece of a world for being how it naturally was.   
"Hey Crest," Myst said frankly. "Don't you need to eventually be asleep during the thing?" 

"Erm, yeah, I do," Crest replied, eyes still shut. "But I don't think it'll be a problem. They'll make me tired enough." 

"Right," she paused. "How did you sleep last night?" 

Crest could hear the car's speed increase. Nearby objects made that zoom as they flew by.

“Why are you asking?” he muttered, trying to sound unfazed by her question. Crest knew he could trust Myst, but if she knew about last night, why was she only now bringing it up?

“Just curious. You seem tired; did you get enough sleep?”

“Yeah, I got enough sleep.” She was curious why he was laying down. “I just enjoy laying down in the car sometimes.” Myst didn’t appear to be taken aback by his explanation, given her focus on what was in front of her. Crest continued, “It’s really relaxing to be able to just sit back and feel the car rumble and hear other cars passing by.”

None of what he said was a lie. But he was avoiding telling her something; according to what his mom told him when he was young, that was still lying. Crest never agreed with that sentiment. Besides, why should whether or not he had a good night be determined by that one detail? Crest continued to ruminate on this topic, each thought leading to another with little regard for its predecessor’s substance. Caught in his thoughts, the world around Crest seemed to come to a standstill. Although he had technically been looking at the ceiling the entire time, he only now noticed it. It too was black, like the rest of the car, and made of a thin fabric that likely nobody knew the name of. Crest reached out to brush his fingers against its fuzzy texture. Not his first choice for something soft to touch, but it’d have to do.

The harsh blare of a car horn bursted Crest’s ears, shaking him awake. Crest’s head instinctively shot toward Myst, whose face screamed frustration. Deciding it’d be best if she didn’t think she’d accidentally woken him up, Crest remained silent and closed his eyes for what must’ve been the second time, though he didn’t actually remember the first. While Myst thankfully paid him no attention, her muffled cursing surprised him. Myst continued driving, and Crest opted to lay low rather than check out the scenery. 

Alone again, Crest ruminated on the influx of emotions he had gone through in just the past twelve hours. His curiosity found its way back to last night. He recalled how spectacular he had felt, but could not replicate the exact feeling. He pondered how nice it would be to have complete control over the body. Crest's mind pulled at the memory, begging it to recreate that emotion again, to release ecstasy into his veins. As this struggle continued, desire became grief, and Crest almost felt the need to mourn. Had it been real? Was it just a momentary miracle, never to be found again? Did he not deserve that joy to begin with? He felt like one of the wild creatures he knew from back home. Once it found a taste of civilized food, it would go mad hunting for more. In those cases, it would have been better that it had never come across such a thing to begin with.

Upon creating this comparison, Crest's mind jolted him. He was not wild--he could control himself. But, didn't every civilized species still have instincts, desires that they couldn't deny? Oh, what would Myst think if she could hear this ranting going on?

Still, despite this turmoil, Crest still replayed the scene frequently, as if not giving it attention would offend it and give it reason to abandon his conscience forever. Crest needed to assure himself not to be paranoid. That, in fact, is what he knew Myst would suggest. He could hear her, "Crest, you'll find that joy again if you don't stop yourself from doing so. Just focus on what's already good in your life." 

Though anxiety still struck him inside, Crest made himself believe the light would come again, and that this operation or whatever it was called would help bring him closer. And yes, he had much to be grateful for. Like sleep. 

The next time Crest came through, the lulling rumbles of the car had stopped. Were they parked? No, the faint clicking of a turn signal was now the only sensation present. Crest could feel it: they were close.

"Crest, are you awake?" 

Though he didn't respond verbally, the Gallade gripped the lever on his seat and brought himself straight up again. The early morning sun poured into his face from the windshield. Through his winces Crest could see the surrounding area; they had actually parked, in a lot of a hospital. Despite its expansive size, only a few cars accompanied theirs.

"Do you wanna try talking this time?" Myst prodded. Crest considered her suggestion. Before he could fully process it, though, he began to shiver again. A punch in the gut would be more pleasant than the hole that was forming inside him again.

"No, you can talk to them," Crest responded, voice stale. "I don't think it'd be a good time to practice on something important as this."

“No, come on! This is the perfect thing to practice English.”

The anxiety began to spread its roots throughout Crest. Fear too shot through him as he realized what it was. The same paranoia from last night had found him again.

“Really, Myst I’m good. I just-- don’t wanna.” Crest spoke with clear disturbance.

“Well, fine. But I really want you to find some way today to practice. It’s really important that you get fluent.”

“Yeah, yeah, I-I know it’s important, Myst.”

“Are you okay?”

“I think so.” Myst’s face scrunched at his answer. Crest contemplated if he even understood it.

“Talk to me.” She straightened herself from a slouch. Crest’s heart felt like it was fueling overwhelming turmoil. Twice in just twelve hours; what was going on? “Come on,” she urged.

“I don’t know, Myst. I’m just all of a sudden-” Crest struggled to even define this. He clearly knew something was wrong, but just saying “something’s wrong” wasn’t going to do the job. But that’s what he should say. “I’m just not feeling right about this.”

“What do you mean? Are you afraid to speak English?”

“No!” Crest yelped. “Why would that be it?”

“Well, I don’t know. That’s made you scared before, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, but, not like this.” The pulling in his chest continued to remind him of its existence.

“Well, like what? What are you feeling right now? You told me you weren’t scared of regeneration anymore--just this morning!”

“I’m not scared of regeneration, I’m just not feeling right. I don’t know how else to put it.”

“Have you felt this way before?”

Crest felt like whatever was inside him suddenly sprung up into his head and did something to keep him from answering. Yes, it was like the anxiety was conscious, and had influence on his mind and body.   
“N-not exactly.” That didn’t make sense either, and his mind was aware of that. But for some reason that’s what he said.

“What do you mean ‘not exactly’, Crest? Tell me, yes or no: Have you felt this way before?”

“Yes!” That one word took all Crest could muster to blurt out. “But, it’s not related to me not wanting to do this. Of course I want to.” Crest knew he wasn’t helping by her facial expression only getting less understanding. “I felt like this last night,” he sighed. “I don’t exactly know what was going on, but-”

“Well, tell me Crest. I need to know these things.”

“Okay, okay.” His chest was still shaking, and its affected area seemed to be increasing, down into the lower half of his body. But, despite this and the accompanying mild headache, Crest’s tongue felt loose.  
Crest relayed to Myst the basics of what happened last night: how he woke up in a sudden panic, one that differed from anything of the sort he had ever experienced. As he told her about how he overcame the terror, how he had focused on her breathing and heartbeat, she smiled triumphantly.

“I see,” she sneered. “I’m just that amazing. But why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted truthfully this time. “I was just so, ah-” He couldn’t find the word.

“So enamored with me. Even without being able to see me,” she laughed. “Okay, I’m sorry. I should be taking this more seriously. Are you feeling better now?” The haunting blanket of heaviness was still wrapped inside him. He could feel it squeezing his organs and letting itself flow through his blood.

“Crest, you need to tell me,” she required sternly this time.

“I, uh,” the force constricted further inside, and his headache sharpened. Worsening these afflictions were the fear and worry the front half of his sensory spike were picking up from her, too.

“I know words are hard for you especially. They’re hard for me. They’re hard for all of us. Not all of us here, but you know what I mean.”

The force in Crest leaped suddenly, causing a brief burst in intensity. This left behind a residue of sorts, traveling and bursting through various parts of his chest and abdomen.

“Except for me,” she sighed softly. “I’m more used to using words and speaking,” she spat as if it hurt to say it. She slid her fingers up and down what was left of his sorry excuse for a sensory spike. “But I need you to use your words, right now,” she muttered tearfully. “I can’t make you do it Crest, you have to want to do it on your own.”

He instead focused on the touch of Myst’s hands, and the relief they brought to his body. Despite this, he could feel that the deed was one-sided. Still, she persisted in trying to make contact with his back spike. He could sense her despair, the fact that she knew it was futile.

“I’m just,” he paused, unable to finish any thoughts.

“What? Why don’t you wanna fix this, Crest?” She withdrew her touch. “I had a feeling, but you told me this morning that you felt okay with it, so why are you like this?”

Frustration was added into the mix of everything fighting for room in Crest’s mind. “I don’t know, Myst,” was all he could muster. Crest began to inhale deeply, and the fresh air entering him caused the paranoia to warp and compact itself, concentrating its pressure onto his sides.

“Do you or do you not, Crest!” Her tone was sharp, but Crest could sense the desperation in her, too. This experience was beyond what Crest was familiar with. He wanted to yell, he wanted to tell her that he was willing to go through with this to the end. But Myst couldn’t feel that from him, she hadn’t been able to since he was attacked and mentally castrated. The anger toward the men of the night began to fuel Crest, taking up what little room wasn’t already filled by angst, confusion, and sadness; these vices now had a chokehold on him, such that they could only be intensified further by the sight of fluid welling up in Myst’s eyes. Especially painful was the sight of her own sensory spike beginning to darken in color. She wrapped her hands around it, almost forming her hands into a pose of pleading.

“You already agreed to it!” she pelted at him, followed by a glare marking a sense of betrayal. Crest’s own spike began to ache in guilt, and he wanted to rip the thing out himself. Myst turned around, opened her door and exited the car, slamming the door before Crest could even finish yelling “Wait!”.

Rather than follow his angered wife, he slouched back in his seat. He wanted to grunt and scream, like a kurem being told to not use any ESP. But he was still gagged by the mysterious presence, and instead laid silent, looking out the windshield across the street. There sat a building, one of the ones used to get fuel for cars. He had been to one of those once or twice, and found their smell and overall atmosphere revolting. To his right lay the hospital, which he had been to once or twice in his days, too. To his left was Myst, leaning against the door. She was talking, speaking English. Crest’s limited knowledge meant even if he could hear her from the outside, he still probably couldn’t tell what she was saying. But he had a hunch.

After a couple minutes in silence, the burning pain in his own spike subdued on its own, but the rest of the parties in him continued to roar. It was all Crest could focus on until he heard the car door open and Myst step back inside.

“I take it we’re going home,” Crest groaned. Myst ignored his remark, and slammed the key back into the ignition. The engine came to life again. “Do they know we’re not coming?” Words were easy for him now, though the turmoil hadn’t disappeared.

“Don’t worry about them, Crest,” she sighed. “Why are you worried about them?”

“I just want to know if they know. It’s not polite to, ah-” He opted to not finish that sentence.

“Yeah, and it’s not polite to cancel last minute, either. But, clearly that’s what you want.”

“I didn’t say that!” Though, in her defense, he didn’t say much of anything.

“It’s okay, Crest. You’re an adult. If you don’t want to learn to talk to me, or to others, then that’s your decision.” She began to back the car out.

“I do want to!” At least, he wished he could talk to her. “It’s just, ah, you’re the one who’s good with words. You don’t know what it’s like to grow up in a normal place. You know, we don’t need to talk to each other back home.”

“I do get that, Crest.” They were back on the road now. “But you can’t live like that here. You’ve gotta learn to adapt to how everyone here communicates. And that’s mostly with words. And talking.”  
“I’ll make sure to be born here in my next life, then. That way I don’t have to learn.”

“Crest! I had to learn as a kid just like you do now! My parents were no different than yours, other than the fact that they had a unique duty to fulfill.”

“They didn’t need to be ambassadors. We didn’t need to have ambassadors. Humans don’t care about us, anyway.”

“You know Crest, just shut up! I don’t know why you’re so talkative now that you’re ready to blame everyone else for your issues. But I don’t want to hear it!”

Crest avoided talking to Myst the rest of the way home. Just outside that gas station, a car was parked at one of the stalls. The nozzle was in the fuel tank, but nobody stood to watch it. Maybe they had gone inside the store for something. The freeway was just beyond, and with Crest alert this time, he expected to see rows of cars making their way to their destinations. But the roads were empty, and they had to pay no attention to merge onto the worn asphalt, held together with sunbaked tar and gravel.

Inside himself, Crest thought he could hear a sowst--a mischievous dark imp, an urban legend told to children--laughing.


	5. Chapter 5

Myst held back further crying as she delicately stomped, one by one, up the unwelcoming stairs of her apartment complex’s staircase. The morning sun was still fresh, casting its heat on the structure’s walls and through its openings that existed to keep the courtyard from being completely without light. Whether or not Crest was behind her, she didn’t care. He could stay in that car forever, and she wouldn’t lose a blink of sleep. Her conscience whispered that she was being overdramatic, but how many times had Crest backed down from doing something that would help him? And this time, it was at the last minute, something that could fix his problems for good. A less friendly thought came to yell these disturbances at him. Did he hate humans and other species that much? Was he afraid, distrustful of people that only wanted to help? Not that he would answer, and with the back half of his spike missing, she wouldn’t be able to pull it out of him either.

It was only midmorning, but Myst already felt like it was time to rest. That bed was calling for her, and gave her the drive to push herself up the last couple steps. Upon reaching the top floor, she realized she really couldn't hear Crest coming up behind her. Where was he? But, she remembered: it didn’t matter.

Myst strutted down the hallway to the entrance of her apartment. Facing the door, she tried the handle without the key and found it unlocked. Great job. If someone had broken in, though, they would've only found cheap furniture and foreign foods, likely not appetizing or even edible for them. If they were a crazed killer? Myst figured the day was already off a bad enough note, so that probably wouldn't happen. She flung the door open, and found the room seemingly empty, as if there was any real chance of it being anything else. What about the bedroom? She found that empty, too. Embracing the bed (on her side, of course), she wondered what the odds even were that someone just happened to come across their unlocked home in the short time they were out, and that that person had been looking specifically for that sort of thing. Probably one in a million.

Despite her efforts to think of something else, Myst's chest still tightened in anxiety. Realizing she was alone, she allowed tears to pool up before releasing them, the right side flowing from her face and staining the silky sheets. Her whimpers were the only sound in the room. Usually, she could hear whatever Crest was doing. No, she was almost always doing something with Crest. And if they were here, it was usually just downtime between going out.

Sinking into the softness, she recalled a very recent memory of when she took Crest out in the night. The whole thing had been to prove him wrong when he made the outrageous claim, "There's no natural beauty here." Eager to provide a new experience for him, she had forced him into the car, because he needed to have a good time.

"I don't wanna go right now," Crest grumbled at the suggestion from his spot in the bed. "I just need-" he inhaled sharply, "to rest."  
Unlike her uninterested knight, Myst was up and about, practically ready to leave, having everything she needed but her date. She glided to her side of the bed and kneeled down. "Come on," she cooed. “It’s not even late.”

“It’s late enough,” he retorted, not even flipping around to acknowledge her dangling off the edge of the bed. Myst stretched her arms playfully across the span of the mattress, trying to save Crest from the growth of blankets that were currently engulfing him.

“I can’t reach you, Crest,” she mocked a panicked voice, slowly sliding her arms off the edge. “You’ll have to come save me.” He didn’t budge, but her arms inched farther away from him. He was really going to let the love of his life, his protector and soulmate, fall to a tragic death. She was on her fingertips. After all they had been through? She fell zero feet as her arms slid off. Still on her knees, Myst hoisted herself onto the bed, being sure to make as dramatic an impact as her admittedly skinny frame would allow.

Myst knew she had been just annoying enough for it to be endearing. Now, she needed to butter him up. After all, she knew this was just his way of testing how much she really wanted this. She slid up next to the tired child--all curled up and facing away--and gently laid her hand on the back of his head, beginning to scratch in circular motions. She found great pleasure in the way his hair felt against her three fingers-- so soft and glossy.

The lump in the bed finally moved, likely due to surprise. The way Crest moved his head around her fingers indicated where he wanted Myst to go next. She followed the best she could, occasionally needing to ask, “Here?” or stating “No, here,” to which Crest would simply nod or continue to try and show what he meant. This routine continued, Myst likely covering every spot of the back of her husband’s head. Without hesitation, she moved on to the frills on Crest’s face; sifting them through her fingers, rubbing and twisting them with care. The tired knight initially shivered at her touch, but quickly came to accept her assertion. Myst breathed in his ear, hoping the quiet rhythm would soothe him further. In response, she could hear Crest’s own breathing, which marked one who was tired, from the day, week, and month that he had gone through. But to be still breathing was something to be grateful for.

Despite the joy she found in pampering her lover, Myst could not lose the feeling of regret that remained inside her from not being able to truly feel the gratitude Crest must have for her. She wanted to share in the ecstasy with him, feeding off his while he fed off hers, compounding the bliss until they were both left dazed and glowing on the bed, with little energy to do much but drift away next to each other. But she knew that he could sense this regret himself, as he had not lost the ability to sense what she or another Gallade or Gardevoir would be feeling. As much as she experienced it, he did too, and the thought of her causing him to feel that pain only deepened her regret further. She wanted to share each other’s heartache, not have it split and affect the two of them separately, leaving them unable to carry themselves forward.

“Myst,” Crest muttered, still facing away. “What can I- we do to help you feel better?” Myst’s heart sunk. She had let her thoughts get that intense while being that close, that intimate to him. Despite his modest response, she feared that she had caused him even more stress, or worse-- anger. She needed to close herself off, before she made it worse for the both of them. 

The Gardevoir pushed herself up, away from Crest, and made her way back on her feet. Crest finally turned around in response to her panicked escape, staring her down. The expression on his face read like a worried, scared animal. Myst’s body was recovering from the admittedly over-reactive shock she had just experienced. She gently strode away from the bed, not even intentionally. In fact, once she realized, she stopped in her tracks, instead opting to just control her breathing and remove the troubles from her mind before they could develop further.

“Well, Crest. I really want to take you somewhere. And before you ask, it’s a surprise. I want it to be a surprise for you.” 

Crest immediately squinted, signaling his disinterest. “Why can’t you just tell me?” he rubbed his eyes with one arm. “I’d be more likely to say yes if I knew where it was.”

Annoying, but Myst had some determination left to not give in to his terms. “Come on,” she approached the bed and sat back down in the middle, next to Crest. “What’s the fun in something special if you know about it in advance?” She began to rub his head again, this time in the front. Crest closed his eyes again and took in all the pleasure. He must’ve forgotten what they were even talking about, because he quit objecting to her responses. Curious to what would proceed, Myst pulled her hand away. Crest continued to lay in bliss, cutely waiting for her presence to return.

“Why’d you stop?” he cried.

An idea--so convenient--came to Myst. “I’ll rub your head some more,” she teased. “But I’m only going to do it at the place I want to take you.”

“The hoops I have to jump through for your love,” he retorted. He revealed his sharp eyes again, which tried to hide his admiration behind a layer of irritation. “And where are you going to do something like that, if we’re in public. It’s not going to be relaxing then.”

Something like that. His attempt to avoid calling her affection what it was made Myst’s heart flutter. Now back in control of the situation, all of her fears drained away, leaving behind only the confidence she needed. As she continued to play with her sweet boy, she pondered how quickly she had lost and regained composure.

“We’re not going to be around anyone, maspem. Now come on, let’s go.” With no delay, Myst hopped off the bed once again. After turning around, she grabbed the covers that were smothering Crest and began to drag them off his body. Crest immediately perked up, his gasp turning into laughter.

“You promise we won’t be around anyone?” he barely made out through his giggles.

“Yes, I give you my word, Crest.”

He removed himself from the bed that he had previously chosen to make his permanent home.

Myst took her eyes off the freeway briefly to check on Crest. He hadn’t moved a muscle, still leaning on his door and gazing at the night outside. For once, Myst didn’t mind the lack of interaction on his part. All she was concerned with was making the night undeniably magical for the two of them. She had resisted Crest’s appeals to let him know where exactly it was she was taking him, as much as she wanted to gush about it and let him know exactly what it was that made it so special, so endearing to her-- that could wait.

But the excitement made her insides bubble in delight. She wondered what Crest was feeling right now. If she had to guess, she would say that he was probably excited too, just not as openly. That said, was he interested in visiting a new place, or just spending time with her and receiving affection? She tried to shrug off the reminder that she could’ve just stayed home with him, and he wouldn’t have complained at all. He was going to get what he wanted; why shouldn’t she as well? Besides, isn’t affection only amplified in a magical, less familiar setting? The thought of such intensity only convinced Myst further that this was what was needed.

As their car sped down the freeway and approached a bend, a mass of lights in the middle of the road caught Myst’s eye. A sign with orange lights, flashing in the shape of an arrow, directing cars to use the exit nearby. Beyond the sign, numerous cones stood in position, guarding the rest of the path from anyone trying to advance forward to the conglomerate of flashing police lights and sirens in the distance.

“Crest, look,” she said, bringing the car to a halt just before the exit in the emergency lane, setting it to park. Crest took his attention off the side window and peered ahead. She could make out no dramatic response on his face or body.

“I guess we have to take the side street, then,” he replied.

The drivers that were behind the couple passed them as they sat on the shoulder of the road, having to turn once they realized the immediate entrance back onto the freeway was blocked in a similar manner.

“Probably a crash,” Myst sighed. “I hope everyone’s alright.” She gasped at the sight of fire igniting in the wreckage, quick as a match. Myst’s chest shrunk into knots of burden, a heaviness that froze her in place. Without looking, she knew that the feeling on her lap was Crest’s arm.

“Come on, Myst,” he pleaded. “Don’t let that ruin your night. I’m sure it happened a few minutes ago and they got out okay. Look, they’re even there already helping them.” He indicated the flashing lights. “Please, don’t let it get to you.”

Myst had been avoiding eye contact, but couldn’t escape the panic in his voice. “Hey, Myst, please, look at me.” The soft touch of his other arm rested on her shoulder. His three fingers gently massaged her skin through the clothing. Slowly, the knots began to untie, as if he had done so himself just through the pleasant friction. With her senses freed up, Myst could now face Crest. Observing the details, she could tell he was trying to stay calm, and despite being mostly successful, he couldn’t hide worry from being sung from his voice or on display in his expressions. “I know, Myst, it’s awful to see. But can we get back on track? I want to see your surprise.”

His words aided in decompressing her. Facing him now, she couldn’t stop the bombardment of images from that awful night just months ago. There were no memories of what exactly happened, just of him eating the rough desert clay, beaten and severed. She wanted to grab Crest and hold him forever, never to expose him to harm’s way again. Was he worried about being outside again, so soon? Did he trust that they had been provided a safer place to live? How she longed to be able to read his thoughts again, when she needed to most.  
“Please, Myst. Do I need to drive? Just tell me where to go.”

Myst shook her head and took Crest’s hold off of her. Once the car was back in drive, it pulled back onto the road, down the exit to a commercial district, one operating to its fullest capabilities. Humans and human-integrated species kept the buildings, clearly built for efficiency’s sake, populated. Beneath a neon-trimmed block of brick and stucco, crowds of mostly adolescent figures sat in circles, their laughing chatters accompanied by enticing foods. The clothing they showed off was as impractical as it was rudimentary. Other surroundings (convenience stores, competing fast food, drug shops) were decisively barren in comparison, but still had pockets of people making use of them. Myst recognized many of their various skin tones and hair colors. The typical human ones: cream, tan, brown, dark brown. Other less common shades existed from the integrated species, including blue, pink, gray, black, and even pale white like her own. None of them bore any similarities to her or Crest beyond their humanoid shapes.

Sweat began to bead around the ends of Myst’s arms. A more shallow pool of worry, almost negligible, presented itself firmly inside. Such reactions conflicted with what she knew to be true, but still, she knew Crest, and by extension herself, would be more at ease if they could just make it to their destination soon. 

Their drive through the commercial sector, though short, allowed them to briefly participate in the ecosystem, being one of many in the crowded four-lane streets, pedestrians crossing to bring the flow to a halt. Still, in reverse inconvenience, bystanders would have to mostly wait, as vehicles dominated the patterns of travel. When they were stopped, the atmosphere had its chance to seep through the walls, and for a moment, Myst forgot where she was. The lights, sounds of motion, and industrial air all worked in harmony, gathering what little energy either of them had and contributing to the sea of sensory expulsions.

As the light they had been ingrained at turned green, Myst took a last look at the insignificant section of the city that had just been explored. Had she been asked how long she had been in there, she wouldn’t be able to answer. Likewise, few of the details remained in her memory. What bothered her up until she reached the edge of town, however, was the lack of impact the experience had left on her. She desired intrigue from each new discovery, even a city block that was new to her. But tonight, she must have simply had her sights set so hard on her surprise. She could still hardly believe she had gotten Crest to even leave.

Beyond the horde of the city’s illumination, Myst could discern little of what lay on the side of the road. Using only the car’s light, she could make out brief glimpses of slate-like clay, hospitable to few forms of life. Ridges and hills jutted out of the earth’s skin in the distance, coughing dust and shale particles into the dry air.

“It’s a little too windy to be out here right now,” Crest said. “Don’t you think?” Myst didn’t want to consider that possibility.

“Can you see?” Myst shouted from the top of the hill, peering at Crest just a ways down.

“Of course I can!” he called out in response, loud enough so she could hear him over the wind. “There’s only a bunch of light coming from off of the top. What’s up there anyway?”

“You’ll just have to come and see,” she taunted. “Now hurry up, put those big legs of yours to use.” Crest carefully guided himself up the last bit of the slope, resorting to his arms for balance. Myst watched in suspense as the wind continued to break the sky, blowing her short hair to the side. “Come on, you’re almost there,” she cried in encouragement.

“Lucky for you you can float,” he stuttered. “Must make things a lot easier.” It was true-- Myst had been able to glide to the top, no putting feet on the ground.

“It’s not like that doesn’t require any effort or energy!” she refuted. “It’s just a bit faster, that’s all.”

“A bit faster? How long have you been up there, watching and laughing at me?”

“I am not laughing at you. I’m even providing you words of encouragement. And you can follow the sound of my voice, too!”

“I’m questioning if this whole thing is going to be worth it!”

“It is, I promise!” Myst yelped as she heard Crest yell and fall, sliding down the rocky cliff a few feet. “Are you okay!” she called with genuine concern.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Crest grunted.

“Did the wind get you?”

“I don’t know, probably.” He was already back on his feet, and making progress faster than before. Half a minute later, he pulled himself onto the summit, panting like an animal that escaped a predator.

Once he sat down, Myst wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight as a stuffed doll. “I knew you could do it,” she purred. Crest seemed too exhausted to notice her affection, but quickly realized where he was, so she just continued to hold him and stroke his arm.

“So what exactly is it? The lights, I’m guessing,” his breathing had calmed down but was still faster than normal.

“Yes, the lights!” her cheery demeanor began to dilute. “I guess, it really isn’t much of a surprise since you could sort of see them on the way up.”

“Yeah, but, I’d still like to see them.” Crest turned around, and Myst followed. In front of them lay an expansive crater, about the circumference of a public circle. The summit of the hill sloped back down into it, with a small bit of land on the edge where it was possible to stay without going farther into the gel-like liquid, which acted as the source of illumination.

Crest paced closer to where the crater started, peering curiously at the goop.

“What is that?” was his obvious response.

“It’s some sort of alien liquid, I think,” Myst gave her best guess.

“Alien to us, or to- well, you know.”

“Both, actually. I don’t think anyone really knows exactly what it is. But my pa-”

“What, you mean they never collected a sample and tried to scientifically deduce what it is? I thought they were all about that sort of stuff.”

“Well, I guess you’re right. But I don’t know what it is or where it’s from, personally. But I do know that my parents used to take me here all the time. And it was one of my favorite spots growing up.”

“Interesting. They made you walk all the way up this thing?”

“It’s not that long of a hike! And usually we would go during the day and with no wind. I swear, it’s usually not this bad.”

“Yeah, no wind would be nice,” Crest remarked as he brushed dust off of his arms. Myst had mostly tried to ignore how much was probably on her, too.

“Well, maybe you should jump in,” she smirked. “See if it’ll clean you off.”

“Have you ever jumped in?” He was going to demand an answer from her.

Myst sighed. “No, and I don’t think you should either. Like I said, I have no clue what it is.” She glided over to where Crest was kneeling, staring at the glow as if he were in a trance. “I know, it’s just so awesome,” she teased. Crest’s focus didn’t break.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this place before?” he asked, no eye contact.

“I honestly forgot. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here. As my dad got older, it became harder for him to make the hike.” She was starting to fall into a trance, too. “And it didn’t feel right that we should go without him, even if he insisted.”

“I don’t see how you could ever forget about a place like this,” he gushed. “Even if you only saw it once as a Ralts, this seems like something that would stick with you.”

“It did stick with me!” Myst insisted. “We just didn’t have a lot of opportunities to come up here, and I wanted to show you around the city, too.”

Crest laughed in his bliss. “Forget the city. We should just come here once a week. I won’t miss anything down there.”

That remark was enough to break Myst’s focus. “You know, there’s plenty to love down there, and you used to love it, too,” she bemoaned.

“I wouldn’t say I loved it,” he clarified. “I was just enamored by the experience the first time. You know, whole new world and stuff.”

“Right, but, I think you should give it another chance,” she spoke carefully. That got him to look over at her, with sharpness in his visage.

“What do you mean?” 

Myst panicked.

Please, please, please don’t be upset.

His expression lightened. Myst still couldn’t get used to the way things worked. He could still sense her, and was going to react accordingly.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“And I didn’t mean to come off like that,” she started.

“No, no. You didn’t do anything wrong. I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”

He turned back to face the endearing glow of the crater. Or was it just to avoid looking at her? Either way, Myst didn’t bring him here for awkward silence.

“Hey Crest? Let’s get down closer.” She could see the embarrassment in his eyes quickly shift to surprise.

“Why? Is that even safe?”

“It should be. We’ll just sit on the edge of the rock, there.” Crest didn’t respond immediately. “I also promised you something in return, remember?”

Crest’s face turned gray, and while he gave no audible response, it was likely due to the fact he was already on his way down. Myst chuckled at his innocent excitement, and began her way down too. It wasn’t far, maybe eight feet or so down a slope, but upon reaching the bottom, Myst could tell something was different. Not only were they sheltered from the wind, but the sturdy, rough rock at the top was gone, replaced by a compact, softer loam. She scooped a bit up, sifting it through her fingers, which left streaks of black residue.

“It’s so much softer down here,” Crest cheered before falling flat on his back, stretching his limbs. “I wonder what causes it? Something to do with whatever that stuff is, probably.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she half-acknowledged, still bewildered by the soil. “This stuff definitely isn’t in the ground normally.”

“Well, this place just keeps getting better and better if you ask me. I could sleep in this stuff.”

“I never actually came down into the crater,” she continued. “Mom and Dad didn’t think it was safe, and I still don’t think that goo is. But, we should be fine sitting on the outside.”

“That’s good, because I was serious about wanting to sleep on this,” Crest exhaled in relief.

“Well, I’m glad we finally found something you enjoyed here.” Myst sat down behind where he was laying. “Sit up just a bit.”

Crest obliged, already half-covered in the clay-like residue. “Sorry, I guess I got a little carried away.” He put his head on Myst’s lap, or at least as much as he could with the on his head in the way, and gazed up at her. She shot him another calm smile, and began to scratch away again, in his admittedly less-clean-than-before hair. His eyes couldn’t keep themselves open as he took in all of the sensations. Myst felt relieved, too. Just to have him in her arms, all of that fear washed away.

She began playing with his face frills, too, which caused him to shake. He grimaced like a baby half-awake, but she knew that he was loving it. Her spike began to glow faintly, so little that if she couldn’t feel it, she wouldn’t have noticed it over the expansive shine of the crater. Crest’s probably was, too.

After what could’ve been a few minutes or hours, Myst gently spoke. “Crest, maspem?” He muttered in response. “Can you please give me attention for just a moment?” His eyes quickly opened back up, giving her that same gaze from before. “I know this is hard for you to talk about, but I need you to promise for me that you’re not going to give up, okay? Not everyone here wants to hurt you. In fact, almost everybody wants to help you.”

“I know,” he whined. Myst’s eyes began to water, just enough she had to close them.

“Can you promise me, then, that you’ll do whatever you need to do. They can fix your spike, Crest. I don’t know exactly how, but by some miracle they can. But you need to let them do it.” Her tears began to run more freely. “They can’t force you to do it. I can’t force you to do it. It’s a decision you have to make.”

Peering back down at her sweet knight, she could see tears bubbling in his eyes, too. He was doing a much better job at subduing them, however. Always such a stoic for her, even when she couldn’t find out what he really felt.

The two sat in silence for another indiscernible period of time. Eventually, Myst asked one last question. “Crest, are you awake?” He nodded this time.

“We can go home now, if you want,” he said.

“I thought you wanted to sleep here?” She caught him.

“Well, I think it’d be kind of fun, but i’m guessing you don’t want to.”

“No, that sounds like a great idea. Besides,” she yawned. “I am not in any shape to drive us back home, and you certainly aren’t either.”

Crest opened his eyes again. “Will the car be alright down there?”

“Should be,” she said. “But who really cares?”

“Well, I’ll let you sleep, then.” He began to stand up.

Wait, he was what? “Um, no, I think you’ll stay right there,” she ordered. How stupid was he? “Who exactly do you think you are?”

“You want to sleep that close to me in the wild?” He sounded genuinely confused at the prospect.

“Of course I do. That’s what you did back home, right?”

“Not exactly. Hey, wait, are you calling me unci-” Myst slid down next to him--on her side, of course, just so the dirt could cake her hair and right cheek--and pressed her face against the side of his head.

“Shhhhhh,” she whispered. “Don’t worry about it.” She kissed his cheek, then quickly sat up and began spitting and hacking. Crest was in hysterics.

“You were trying so hard to seduce me!” he managed to say between laughs. “But the dirt saved me from your temptations.”

“Right,” she shot him eyes of fire. “I guess back home, Gallade just cover themselves in dirt whenever they don’t want their pesky wives bothering them.”

“Hey,” he sighed from his laughter. “Whatever works.”

“You’re not getting anymore kisses.” Myst resumed the position she was in next to him. “Well, maybe one more.” She made sure this time to not make it so wet, or as long. Not soon after, Crest flipped over to face her and caught her mouth completely off-guard. Myst was surprised to not taste any loam (or maybe she was covered in so much of it now that she didn’t notice), and her shock quickly shifted to relaxation. Her spike began to flare in passion. When they finally did separate their mouths, she felt dazed and blissful. The last thing Myst remembered was pulling Crest close to her, as tight as she could.


	6. Chapter 6

Still sprawled on the bed, Myst stared at her phone’s screen, a sour frown intensifying her already dramatic demeanor. She glided through a variety of search results on a webpage, ones given to her by simply venting into the search engine, and briefly scanned each story of people feeling anger, confusion, distrust for their lovers. No point in wasting too much time on it; there were forum posts made by humans and other major species, but nothing of any sorts that could benefit her. The closest thing would be a human with its tongue ripped out.

While she was in the middle of reading a peculiar post made by a humanesque person about his wife losing sensation in her antennae, a call buzzed onto Myst’s phone, from an unfamiliar number and location. Knowing it was likely a scam, she answered it anyway. A pre-recorded voice told her that it was so happy that she picked up, and that she needed to stay on, otherwise she’d miss an important detail regarding insurance. It wasn’t even going to get to finish its sales pitch, sadly.

Myst rubbed her eyes, tired and puffy. Part of her wanted Crest to walk back through the front door. She didn’t feel finished with him yet. He had made multiple promises to her that he was going to improve, to change. Hollow, empty words are what they were. He would say anything to get her off his back. Was he even serious when she held him in her arms that night, or did he just want physical affection and a place to sleep? She felt like she’d never know for sure.

Providing her now dry eyes some relief was the last motion Myst wanted to make ever again, or at least for the rest of the day. She could stay here, on this bed, and not do anything. After all, if Crest could wade through life that way, why couldn’t she? In fact, she was starting to possibly understand why he did it: it was much easier to blame others for a lack of change than to address the problem head on. She could tell herself that she was better than that, that she had made her own promise to help him in any way that she could. But, she now realized that that was a foolish line of thinking. Even if she was bound to him forever, he surely was disregarding his own oath with the way he was acting, and if he didn’t keep his end, then she had no obligation to keep her end, either. Yet still, the desire to know him better refused to leave Myst by herself. 

The sound of her phone buzzing a second time sent a jolt through the idle knightess. Irritated, she checked who it was this time. Another telemarketing robot, trying to scam her? Unlocking the screen, Myst groaned at what she saw instead.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crest’s middle fingers slid under the step he sat on, as if letting go would launch him flying from the base of the staircase across the parking lot. Instead, he fought the desire to let go and make the trek to his apartment, worried that the atmosphere would somehow intensify the anger inside him. He would let Myst be angry and wrong by herself; he wasn’t going to even entertain her criticisms, her nagging. After making this decision, and confirming it with his conscience, hunger pangs spared no time to remind him that he could not stay down here comfortably for very long. They nipped at his stomach, adding to the maddening effect the pulsing frustration was already having on him.

Hoping nobody was looking, Crest inhaled like an infant tasting air for the first time, his face flushing with the color grey, pain concentrating in his forehead and the top of his horn. The frame of his body shuttered for a moment, then ceased as a distraught Gallade slouched over, freeing his hands from underneath the stairs so he could bury his face in his arms and lap. Crest took another breath before letting all of his emotions out in the form of tears. His fit was similarly brief, however, and soon he simply sat in silence, shielding his eyes from the outside world by squeezing them shut and hiding them away.

While it would have been nice to simmer in discomfort for eternity, Crest’s hunger was not going to go away on its own. He contemplated fasting for the whole day, but knew that he’d have to go back inside eventually, if not for food, then for something else. Still, what should’ve taken less than a minute would prove more difficult for Crest, as he carefully pulled his head out from the inside of his lap, and rubbed his eyes dry of any remaining tears. Next, as if he had a broken leg, he used the bannister to his left to pull himself off the cemented ground.

He considered the scenario, and conversed with himself inside as he climbed. He would not let his anger fuel a hotter argument with Myst. If she tried to approach him, he would calmly refuse any temptation to give in to conflict. Ideally, he could go inside, get something to eat, and ignore her for the rest of the day, or at least until they had both cooled down.

Halfway up the stairs.

If she really continued to prod him, really tried to trap him, he would have to leave. He could simply grab the keys and make his way out. She would know he wouldn’t actually be leaving forever, just going for a ride. He would assert himself, show that he was in control of what he decided to spend his time on, and it wasn’t going to be him sitting and listening to someone tear him down, especially not from someone who claimed to love him.

At the top, his floor.

Nobody could tell Crest what he could or couldn’t do. Part of his inside grimaced at his monologue. What would Myst think if she heard it? Most likely, she’d tell him to grow up and accept responsibility. But she hadn’t even allowed him to explain himself earlier. Yes, he was glad to not have to have his appointment today, but he couldn’t escape it forever. Each day it was postponed was just more time he had to live in fear of it.

Crest continued reflecting on this dilemma as he entered the cramped apartment, immediately making his way to the fridge. He ignored much of what was in there; mostly ingredients rather than actual food. His eyes were set on dinner from last night: little spheres of root, plant, and flour, fried to make ready-to-eat, delectable treats. Granted, the ingredients were significantly different than what he was used to at home, given that they couldn’t find the same native plants here, but the fact that he could have these at all away from home warmed his heart, even if just a little. Eating them out of the refrigerator was something Crest had only recently become accustomed to, as well, but oddly enough he found them just as enjoyable cold as sizzling off the flames. 

According to Myst, they were lucky to have fire on their stove, as most homes had ditched them years ago. She told him this shortly before asking if it was normal for Gallade to cook, since her father never did. Crest hadn’t even thought about it before, though her asking did make him realize that she had done most of the cooking since they began living with each other. Not that he was complaining.

Mealtime became synonymous with self-reflection as Crest took his plate of a dozen or so food balls to the couch, sprawling out against it as if it was the most expansive piece of land ever owned. He plopped each piece in, one at a time, a king being fed by his non-existent servant.

Strangely enough, Myst had not even made herself known since had come in. Was he just that quiet? Was she ignoring him? She was definitely behind the closed bedroom door. Now concerned with something other than his stomach, Crest sat completely still, listening. Since these walls allowed for little privacy, he was able to make out the indistinguishable sound of his wife’s voice, though he couldn’t make out any full words, just mutters that were deliberately hushed, to prevent invasive ears. Mainly his own, the walls weren’t so thin that neighbors could hear. These things considered, Myst would have to at least be guessing that he was in here.

Crest set his plate down and sat up, ignoring the thirst he had developed from eating starchy food. He took great care to not make noise in standing, and even more to drift across the carpet to the door. Once there, he ditched the quiet approach and thumped his finger on the wood, which echoed throughout both rooms. A few seconds later, Myst opened up for him, phone pressed against her face, listening to whoever was on the other line. Her eyes indicated a lack of interest in his presence, but when Crest tried to read her and see for sure, he couldn’t find any solid response, and immediately suspected that she was making an effort to close her thoughts off.

Still starving, Crest made a quick trip back to grab his food. Though really, with the door open, it was all one room anyway. As Crest re-entered and continued to devour his dish, he questioned why Myst would need to keep the door shut if she wanted privacy, since she knew perfectly well Crest didn’t speak English well, even if she really wished he did. Unless, she wasn’t speaking English. But the only people she could be talking to in the native tongue were her parents. Crest’s family wouldn’t know how to work a phone even if they did somehow get one. He knew that wasn’t an entirely fair judgment, but they definitely weren’t going out of their way to call him. Either way, Myst talking to her own parents was nothing new, but the fact it was occurring right now drew more worry in Crest. She’d likely want a place to vent, nothing unhealthy with that, but even if she was completely fair in her story, he’d come out looking like the villain.

Of course, Crest needed to verify whether his assumption was true or not, but whoever was on the other line was dominating the conversation. Myst was only nodding, making affirmative sounds to indicate she was listening. If she had called to blow off some steam, wouldn’t she be the one doing most of the talking? And while her face wasn’t exactly welcoming, it didn’t give off the impression of someone who had just been spouting off their anxieties to find relief. She even glanced over at him with a much more neutral expression, after cursing him with such a sour look just a minute ago.  
With only facial expressions to work with, Crest continued to hope she would get a turn to speak so he’d be able to at least get some context on what had her so caught up. He was absorbed by the scenario too, only eating to sate his hunger with no attention paid to enjoying the food’s savory taste and crunchy texture.

When Myst finally did speak, it was a brief farewell in English. She hung up and sighed like she had just received good news after hours of expecting the opposite. “Crest,” she sighed. “Did you sense that something was wrong when we were at the hospital? In the parking lot?”

Crest set his plate down on the dresser near the door. “What do you mean?” he replied. That was such an odd question to be asking him. Clearly he felt like something wasn’t right, because he didn’t want to go inside in the first place. However, that was just anxiety. She was going to use this to bring up his attitude toward things, wasn’t she? Crest rubbed his fingers in anticipation of more arguing.

“I mean,” she continued. “Did you sense that something bad was going to happen?” Why was she being so vague?

“No. Why? Did it? Something bad?” His words barely flowed as he tried to get her to explain what she meant.

"No, it's just-" she sat down on the edge of the bed. "Come here, sit down." Crest joined her. 

"What is it?"

"I just got off the phone with the hospital. They said that if you had come in today, and undergone the procedure that they were planning" she paused briefly. "There's a good chance you would've gotten seriously hurt. I don't understand exactly what happened, but after I called them to let them know we weren't coming, they went and looked over something, and I guess they realized something that they didn't before, and basically if they had gone through with it, then it wouldn't have been good."

"Can you tell me what they mean? Like, what specifically would've happened? Is there a chance I could've died, or what?"

“Yes,” her voice squeaked with sorrow but also relief. “They said they still don’t fully understand our anatomy yet.”

That made sense to Crest. After all, he was only their fourth encounter with his kind, and only the second male. However, something still didn’t feel okay. “Right, I get that,” he said. “But that is some oddly convenient timing. Doesn’t that seem a little weird to you?”

“It does.”

“What else did they say?”

“They still want to do it, but they’re going to need more time. They’ll keep in contact with us, and we just have to wait.”

“Well,” Crest sighed. “That is assuming we still want to do that. I mean, telling me that I could’ve died had I gone in today isn’t making me want to trust them a second time.”

“Right, and I want to talk to you about that. I know I’ve been encouraging you really hard to go through with this, but that’s only because I truly did believe it would help. But now…”

“You feel like you were sending me off to my death.”

Myst was visibly shocked at that response. “Don’t put it like that!” she exclaimed. “I don’t want to feel like everything I did was moving you toward harm’s way!”

“Okay, sorry. But no, I don’t think I was sensing that something was wrong. I just haven’t really wanted to go at all, and this morning the stress was too much.”

“But like you said, the timing is way too convenient. Crest, I think you did have a feeling that was warning you of incoming danger.”

“Myst, I’m telling you I didn’t. It’s just the anxiety I’ve had building up the past few weeks.”

“Well, maybe your body’s known the whole time.”

She wasn’t letting go. Crest was intrigued on how she had completely flipped her view on the matter. Obviously they now had new information, but what was Myst basing this assumption off of?

“Maspema, I promise you,” he said. “If I thought there was some sort of danger, I would’ve told you.”

Crest consoled her with his hands on her thin backside, scratching and rubbing the area around her spike--skin soft enough that it was relaxing for him, too. Myst leaned forward in approval, closing her eyes and letting out breaths of pleasure.

“I know you’re scared for me,” he said softly, leaning over and kissing her on the temple. “I’m scared a lot, too. But I don’t want it to be something that makes us fight and argue.”

Something about being able to press himself so firmly onto Myst, to feel every inch of her back, drove away Crest’s worries. He wanted to do this all day, even if his hand would object to more than a few minutes. Crest’s spike picked up wisps of happiness and peace, and absorbed them greedily. It wanted Myst to open up completely, to convert all of her stress and worry into positivity, reassurement.

Catching Crest by surprise, Myst turned to face him and buried her face into his abdomen, next to his increasingly sensitive spike. “I’m okay,” she muttered. “I’m not crying, I just…” She never finished the second part of the sentence, and Crest could feel she was lying about the first half. A part of him wanted to pull her off, tease her for crying so much today, but he knew that this was good for him, too. Still, he had to ask.

“Why are you crying? I thought we were trying to be happy.” Granted, tears of joy were a thing, but that wasn’t the impression he was getting.

“I feel so bad. It’s like everyone here wants to see you fall. I feel like I dragged you into this, and that all of these trials you’ve had to endure have been my fault.”

“Myst, come on. Even if that were true, I’d never feel that way about you.” He wanted to add that he didn’t actually hate being here, but that would be a lie.

“No, I pushed so hard for us to live here instead of back at your home. And I know that wasn’t fair of me.”

Crest did pry her off his skin this time, and stroked her head as she sulked. “You didn’t force me. I chose to marry you, and I knew that you had a different lifestyle. Trust me, there were no surprises.” Her pleading eyes were so hard to argue with. “At least, it wasn’t a surprise that you wanted to live here. And I’m just so glad that it’s here with you, than with anyone else.”

“You do hate it here though,” she whimpered. Crest was in awe at how quickly her mood had swung, just from a phone call. This led to a realization that he was no longer angry either. How strange that an unfortunate message actually improved his mood.

Still, he couldn’t deny that there would always be uneasiness, or a sincere worry for the future. He longed for a solution; he longed for a path to regaining what had been taken from him. For now, at least, it was nice to know that he hadn’t given up his last opportunity.

“Myst, is there anything we can do to make you feel better?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I’m not really in the mood to do anything the rest of the day.”  
“Come on, it’s still early! Are you going to waste an entire perfectly good day? Let’s just do something to take our minds off this whole thing. We can discuss our next step another day. There’s nothing else we can do about it for now.”

“I know, Crest. I’m just so drained right now from all of this.” She slipped away from his caresses. “Can you respect that?”

“Of course I can,” he assured her. “But, what are you going to do all day here?”

“I dunno,” she grumbled, looking away.

“Well, you let me know if you change your mind, then.” Crest knew better than to try to push things further. They were lucky that both of their moods had neutralized. But if she didn’t want to do anything productive today, then was he supposed to just sit around?

“I mean,” she said after this hesitation. “We could practice your English some more. You have a lot to learn, and I want you to be able to talk to the people the next time we end up going.”

Crest was now wishing he had kept his mouth shut. Since it was too late for that, he decided he’d better not argue further. “Fine,” he puffed. “Should I get started, then? Hello, my namee is Crest.”

Myst chuckled, her face changing expressions in an instant. Her mood had suddenly improved. “Namee,” she mocked, giggling again.

“Well, what can I say,” Crest tried to salvage his pride from such an embarrassing mistake. “It’s an awful language. None of the sounds even make sense.”

“They make perfect sense,” she said. “You just need to practice more. You. Do you remember what that word means.”

“Of course, it means mas.” There’s no way she was expecting him to get that wrong.

“It doesn’t mean moc. That’s me! I’m me, and you’re you. I’m moc, and you’re mas.”

Crest knew it.

Myst stood from off the bed and walked over to the plate Crest had left with his food on the dresser, grabbing one of the food spheres and plopping it triumphantly in her mouth, with that same look that could drop a Gallade dead, or at the very least dumbfounded.

“But seriously though.” Her expression darkened. “You need to learn some English if you want to live here.”

“I know, I know. You’re saying that like I don’t know any. You’re not even going to let me live without bringing up that little mistake I just made all the time; I know you.”

“Well, I won’t, but it’d be awful if that happened talking to someone else.”

“What, because everyone here speaks the language perfectly?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Set off. Besides, you’re not the boss of me.”

Myst strutted her way back, where Crest still sat, in which she joined him. “I know I’m not the boss of you, maspem.” She slid her fingers under his chin and forced him into view. “But, I am your loving wife, and as such, I just want what’s best for you. So, I will continue to push you, even when it’s hard, and even when you don’t want to do it. You can’t get angry at me for that, can you?”

She was so good at this. Crest’s spike tingled at the combination of affectionate touch and dialogue. Even better, he could read her own feelings again: joy, optimism, and a readiness to do something worthwhile. He knew he was easy to toy with, that he let her get away with stuff like this way too easily. Doing the opposite, however, would require saying no, and how could he do that to a face like hers?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those of you who have been reading this so far. Please let me know what you thought, even if you absolutely hated it. Knowing that people read my work and have a reaction to it is what motivates me to make more.


End file.
